


Go For the Wolf

by ratafia



Series: Raspberries and mint [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Getting Together, M/M, Pack Dynamics, Pack Feels, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-10 01:57:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18650575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ratafia/pseuds/ratafia
Summary: “Hi there I know I don't know you but I live downstairs and I can hear you through the ceiling every time you play with your dog and his squeaky toy.”“Oh, I'm sorry, does it bother you? We can keep it down…”“NO! No, frankly, it sounds AMAZING. Can I come in? Okay, that sounded weird, it's just I always wanted a dog, but my dad's allergic, and now I work too much, plus school, and I thought, hey, maybe my new nice neighbors would let me play with their dog? Maybe?”





	Go For the Wolf

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NadiaHart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NadiaHart/gifts).



> This is a very fluffy take on the "what if the alpha in s1 wasn't Peter?". Basically, Laura lives, Derek never comes to Beacon Hills and he and Stiles never meet. Until they do, in New York, when Stiles moves into their apartment building.  
> A big grateful shoutout to the lovely [sisforsterek](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sisforsterek/pseuds/sisforsterek) who beta'd this.  
> Written with prompts from two tumblr posts, including meet-cute and the infamous t-shirt.

Derek growls in annoyance at the shrill sound of the doorbell, and Laura swats him on the back of the head before getting up to answer it. It's not like he could do it himself right now, with his wolf going into mad overdrive recently and presenting him with an ability to fully shift. And while that in itself is pretty cool, living in a city like New York and being trapped for hours in the wolf's body, not having the control to change back yet, was not very fun. Also, expensive, because he needs to hunt, and move, do  _ something _ , and apparently those squeaky ducks from the pet shop are the next best thing. 

Laura had enough laughs at his expense on that one, but she isn't laughing right now, her scent turning tamer in perpetual protective instinct of meeting someone new. Because the young man's voice that beat her to any question was most definitely unknown to Derek.

“Hi there I know I don't know you but I live downstairs and I can hear you through the ceiling every time you play with your dog and his squeaky toy.”  

“Oh, I'm sorry, does it bother you? We can keep it down…” 

“NO! No, frankly, it sounds AMAZING. Can I come in? Okay, that sounded weird, it's just I always wanted a dog, but my dad's allergic, and now I work too much, plus school, and I thought, hey, maybe my new nice neighbors would let me play with their dog? Maybe?” 

Derek knows his scent though. It is that same scent that he felt on his first day turning into a wolf, a sudden addition to the usually bland mixture of strangers inside their building's lobby. But that day, there was something... new. Like energy personified, sizzling lightning at the edge of his hearing, with the sweetest undercurrent of raspberries and a minty aftertaste. 

He barrels for the door, the toy forgotten and abandoned, weasels his way between Laura's legs. She is probably trying to stop him, but he does not relent. Not until he can press his nose into the stranger's hands, licking the lighting and raspberries and mint from his skin, plopping on his back easily when he hears only the very first syllable of "belly rubs". 

“Well... It seems like  _ he _ thinks you can play with him. Come on in.” 

  
  
  


It's three weeks before they meet face to face, instead of snout to face. By that point Derek knows that the guy's name is Stiles, he just turned 19, he's from California, but here for studies on Criminal science and a million other things on the side, he loves coffee, he never stops talking, and he's the funniest person Derek has ever met. It's a blessing that he can laugh freely in the wolf's body without feeling self-conscious, and also a curse in how ridiculous it sounds, but at least it never fails to make Stiles laugh too, and that is the sound that Derek loves. 

So here they are, standing before each other, and Derek stares in wonder as Stiles' pale cheeks turn a fascinating shade of pink, and in his scent raspberries mix with ginger, so when the human extends his hands as a greeting, it's a real struggle to not drop on all fours and simply rub his wolf self all over him. He settles on returning the handshake, managing a smile and watching as pupils in Stiles' eyes expand just a bit more, and then the moment is rudely interrupted by a stranger, whose presence Derek can't believe he missed so entirely up until that point. 

“Em, Stiles, should I leave you two alone or something?”

Derek's attention snaps to find a man roughly the same age as Stiles, with a hand clasped over his nose and mouth as if trying to block some offensive scent, but what really gets to Derek is his eyes, dark brown sharp and assessing under black floppy curls of his bangs, and flashing just for a second in an alpha red. Derek immediately yanks Stiles behind himself, shoulders hunched in a protective stance and a growl at his lips, all before he can catch himself or even process what it is he's doing. It startles him, the intense desire, the  _ need _ to protect Stiles, no matter the opponent's strength, but he stands by it, never mind that alpha's eyes crinkle with amusement and Stiles himself is slapping his back trying to get out of the grip. 

“Dude, dude, stop it, will you! It's Scott, my best bro, totally harmless, so cut that growly gig out right this second!” 

That does relax him a bit, but then comes the confusion and a little bit of hurt too. With a sudden fear right on its heels, when he finally realizes all the implications that Stiles didn't even blink at all the werewolf-y posturing. 

“You... you know about werewolves.” 

Stiles looks at him like he's an idiot. Derek kinda agrees, but still frowns at a stifled snort from Scott. 

“Of course, I know. Derek, we literally met when you were a  _ wolf _ . It's not like you look like some oversized lab puppy.”

In the end, it works out, with Scott being the sweetest guy and Stiles' laugh sounding even better to Derek's human ears. He does miss the near constant touching and petting the human bestowed upon his wolf form, but now they can actually talk. And in the middle of the intense discussion about the latest book they read, he can't find it in himself to regret anything. 

  
  
  
  


“So, when will you find some balls and ask Stiles out?” 

Derek stumbles and splatters and stares shocked at Laura who looks at him in that very unamused and tired older sister way, when she knows he's going to be a stubborn idiot about it. 

“Why would I do that?”

“Oh, I don't know, maybe because you’re head over heels in love with him?” 

He opens his mouth to protest, to deny, to say that it's not the case at all, but he can't get the words out and closes it again. Instead, he debates if it's worth getting probably a year quota of teasing in one fell swoop to maybe get some advice. Laura is faster, which shows just how much she's done with his bullshit. 

“Just do it, please. It's impossible to breathe with you two in the same room, the stench of unresolved sexual tension is too thick.” 

“But... What if he says no?” 

Laura groans, all out throwing her hands in the air, the exasperation simply pouring off of her, complete with an epic and loud facepalm that almost ruins her makeup. Just almost though, and when she lifts her ever suffering gaze to the sky, she sees something further down the street they're currently walking on to the pack karaoke night. Derek is mildly terrified at a feral smirk she gets just then, gesturing somewhere over his shoulder and nearly yelling while trying to make her point so hard. 

“Does  _ that _ look like he will, mm?!” 

It does look like Stiles should wear some kind of hazard warning because while Derek's brain is trying to catch up to the sight before him, he walks straight into the corner of the building. It hurts, his forehead and nose stinging with a blow, his cheeks burning with embarrassment because Laura is cackling like a crazy person, not even trying to help him up. Because yes, he just walked into a wall full speed and fell on his ass. Some werewolf he is. 

“Shit, Derek, are you alright?! Can you stand? Did you hit your head, are you sick?!” 

It's Stiles, of course, who saw the whole thing and ran up to him, now kneeling before his hunched-in-shame form, long warm fingers fleeting over his face and hair, checking for damage, almost petting him in the meantime. He leans into the touch automatically, pain forgotten, and stares into the brown eyes and breathes in the lightning, the raspberries and the mint, with the nervous note of citrus already fading away, melting into the heady ginger. 

“I'm fine,” he mumbles. He doesn't care, because Stiles smiles in clear relief and doesn't take his hand away from his hair, no, he rakes it over his scalp, behind his ear, and Derek feels his eyes sliding shut in pleasure. 

“Nice shirt.” 

It's all he can say, forcing his eyes open again, darting between a dangerous smirk Stiles adopts and the bold white letters on his chest. 

“Well, this one guy I know can't seem to take a hint, so I thought I should hint a bit louder.” 

"FORGET ABOUT PRINCE CHARMING, GO FOR THE WOLF. HE CAN SEE YOU BETTER, HEAR YOU BETTER, EAT YOU BETTER." It does look loud enough, even though it takes Derek all of the karaoke night and the walk home to actually work up the courage, but when he does ask, lamely, stumbling over his tongue and looking anywhere but at Stiles, if he would like to maybe get some coffee, or dinner, or anything, sometime, if he's not busy, of course, he's rewarded with a blinding smile and the most enthusiastic "yes" ever. 

  
  
  
  


They get coffee the very next day, right after Stiles’ classes, and before they know it, it's dinner and they end up staying until closing hours in the little cafe near the campus, just talking and holding hands over the tiny table. Staff seems apologetic to kick them out, saying they look "very cute together", and Stiles simply glows with a proud smile, puffing out his chest and clasping Derek's fingers tight into his own, interlocking them. 

They don't separate, walking out just like that, companionable silence falling over them as they turn into the predawn twilight of the park. The street lamps turn off when the sun peeks out from the slope of the horizon and Stiles stops, turning to Derek, stepping into his space, bringing his palm to his lips and the werewolf forgets how to breathe. 

His heart beats in his throat, stuttering rhythm, echoing in his head, loud and nervous, when he reaches out to bring Stiles closer, when he tastes for the first time the lightning, the raspberries and the mint from the plump lips. He's dizzy with ginger and giddy with happy notes of something warm and flowery, that he's pretty sure is what Stiles' love smells like. He decides it's the smell he wants in his life till the very last day, he wants to inhale it in his very last breath and every one before that, because that's what heaven must smell like. 

  
  
  
  
  


When they show up at the next pack night with fingers clasped together yet again, the whole room erupts in a cheer of "finally" and then money exchanges hands and they're asked a barrage of questions like, have they kissed yet, and who kissed who, and when are they planning to move in together. Derek is stuck between flustered and terrified while Stiles is shooting off the answers and laughing off the more intrusive ones, even manages to snag a twenty from someone in a "new couple tax". But overall, Derek is simply floored by all the support and only then realizes that Stiles didn't just bring love in his life, he gave him and Laura a new pack, a family, this weird but loving band of humans, shifters, and other creatures, that somehow fit together perfectly. 

He feels like home for the first time in years, when they all settle for a movie and Stiles is splayed over his lap, half on top of Scott too, and Laura sitting on his other side, and others arrange themselves around them, jokes and banter filling the space with a comforting sense of belonging. He hides his face in Stiles' hair, breathing through the sudden tears, arms of his pack already finding their way around him in silent support. 

“You okay there, Derbear?” 

Stiles' voice is close and intimate, fingers playing along his arm, soothing away the pain without ever needing werewolf mojo. 

“Yes. Never better.” 

The human hums, burring closer in his embrace, nuzzling and mixing their scents, so that the lightning and raspberries and mint and flowers cocoon Derek in a warm safe blanket of his affections. 

  
  
  
  


“Derek, is that my  _ favorite shirt _ you're wearing?!” 

“No...?”

They both know it's a blatant lie, because there are glaring white letters about the wolf and the prince, stretched out of their blocky shape across Derek's chest, and he hugs himself protectively against the fire in Stiles' gaze. 

He actually steps away when human steps closer, settling his basket of dirty laundry on the nearest machine, pack around them exchanging quick bets on how fast he will lose the shirt and giggling at his discomfort. The werewolf himself wouldn't bet on his victory, but as his back hits the edge of the other washing machine, vibrating in it's spinning cycle, the ginger in his nose becomes stronger still. 

It nearly drowns out the lightning and the raspberries and the mint, when Stiles traps him against the machine, catching up finally and pulling him down for the thorough kiss. Derek clutches onto him, oblivious to affronted shouts from the pack, and they separate only when there is dirty underwear thrown at them. 

Derek catches it reflexively before it hits the back of Stiles' head, throwing it back in disgust right after and human laughs, not really separating from him, resting against his chest with an easy familiarity. He parries all the "get a room" with "I don't know, it feels pretty good right here" and doesn't really try to take the shirt away at all. 

“I love you.” 

It stumbles from Derek's lips unbidden and awed, and he stills in momentary panic, because he hasn't said it to anyone after Kate, ever, before that very moment. But the words feel natural now, and so, so true, especially when Stiles' eyes are so close and bright, a smile brimming with happiness. 

“I love you, Derbear.” 

He does end up without a shirt shortly after that, but it's the last thing on his mind, when he has everything he could ever need right there in his arms: a human, witty, strong and beautiful, loving and fierce, emanating power like sizzling lightning at the edge of his hearing, with the sweetest undercurrent of raspberries and a minty aftertaste, spicy lust of ginger, and overwhelming, honeyed waft of flowers bringing him peace and love he never knew before. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Come shout with me on [tumblr](https://omgilostmyshoe.tumblr.com)!  
> This AU was very fun to write, I'd be glad to take more prompts or suggestions for it.


End file.
